


Tell The Spy Your Secrets

by WittyWallflower



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Confessions, Diary/Journal, Garak being nosy, Gen, Genetic Engineering, Getting Together, Insecurity, Love Confessions, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26326585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: Something's bothering Doctor Bashir and Garak decides the best place to investigate what's going on is in Julian's personal logs. He learns a lot more than he ever bargained for.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 44
Kudos: 210





	1. Chapter 1

The doctor had been acting quite preoccupied lately. Oh, he had come a long way from the young man who zoned out of a conversation when another thought distracted him. Now he could carry on the debate, respond to Garak's sarcasm appropriately, manage to get his food and drink down before the chilly station air brought them to an inedible temperature. But Garak knew him well by now. He had noticed the microsecond hesitations when the usually-attentive Doctor didn't immediately catch his cue. The give-and-take of the conversation progressed but Bashir's heart didn't seem to be entirely in it even as he disagreed, very loquaciously, with the tailor's point.

Garak's usual style of roundabout inquiry, asking without really asking, was far too easy for Julian to deflect. It was unlikely he would be able to get the doctor to open up about whatever had him so on edge. And rather hypocritical for Garak of all people to encourage him to be open and honest.

But information could be gained in many ways, both honest and dishonest.

Which is how Garak found himself settling down with a mug at the console in his quarters, ready to hack into Bashir's personal logs.

Starfleet encryptions were laughable. There was little in the computer he couldn't access if he wanted to. It was easier to avoid the more secure information until he had a need of it. No point in drawing attention to his efforts when there were other ways. But Starfleet's requirement that all officers keep a personal log was highly convenient. He wouldn't have to go digging through multiple sources, stitching together disconnected bits of intel. It would be all laid out for him to read. Or rather to listen to, as humans often preferred voice logs to text.

Garak took a sip of tea and ruthlessly squashed the flicker of guilt at helping himself to his friend's personal thoughts. He had a mission and would do whatever it took to achieve that. He had done worse things to gain information; inflicted far worse on others than a momentary breach of privacy. If the information was useful it would be worth it and if Garak didn't get caught, what Julian didn't know would never hurt him.

 _"Julian Bashir, personal log."_ The lightly accented voice was slow with a tiredness Garak could almost feel. _"Fairly average day in the infirmary today. No major emergencies. One outpatient surgery to-... never_ _mind. It's all in the infirmary logs, I suppose."_

There was a long pause.

 _"I was thinking about how long I've been on Deep Space Nine now. How long its been since I left the Academy, finished medical school. I am firmly settled into what is shaping up to be a very promising career. I have a routine here, friends, a life. Finally I can settle down for a few years and make a home for myself. Yet everything still feels... ephemeral. I can't relax and enjoy things as they are. I'm always waiting for-..."_ Here Julian cut himself off and cleared his throat, ending the log abruptly.

Garak raised an eyebrow ridge. There was a heavy weight in Julian's tone. He was troubled indeed. Talking around the problem, vague even when speaking only to himself. This was going to be a puzzle.

There were too many personal logs to make it through in one go. Luckily Garak was very intuitive when it came to keyword searches. If the problem had to do with his work or with Starfleet, logically there would be mention of Bashir's commanding officers in the relevant logs.

_"I suppose without realizing it at the time, I had hoped Sisko might become something of a father figure. God knows my own father is not worth the name. Sisko is my first real commanding officer. I've had bosses before of course, temporary postings, surgical supervisors and the like. But this is my first long term posting, we're the only humans out here and I guess... I was hoping that would make it easier to develop bonds with them all. Instead the man who could have been the perfect mentor for a green young officer quickly came to find me intolerable as everyone else does after a while...."_

Garak sat back in his chair for a long moment, letting himself remember the Julian Bashir who had first come aboard DS9. Excitable, eager, a bit too self-preoccupied, and a lot talented at ruffling feathers without meaning to. It had taken him some time to form close bonds with his crew-mates. Garak hadn't failed to notice that his own lunches with the doctor had become a standing appointment long before Julian had established a regular darts night with the Chief. Time and familiarity had allowed the doctor to form friendships on the station but it hadn't come easily.

_"I'll admit the Major made me uncomfortable. She was a constant reminder that whatever regrets I may have about my past I was incredibly privileged to grow up in the Federation. The horrors suffered on Bajor couldn't be farther from my realm of experience. It was easier to see the victims as reports on a padd, not traumatized people I would be living alongside. I really cant blame her for despising me for it..."_

The young man felt his own ignorance very strongly when it was revealed to him. Usually so brilliant, Julian seemed to take it as a personal failing anytime he didn't know something that was important to the people around him. Garak at times would deflect the doctor's curiosity about Cardassian culture with insistence that his people valued their privacy, or by making up rather obvious lies. It was just another part of their little game, really. But perhaps it would be kinder to let Bashir know more about Garak's people after all.

Despite Julian's insecurities about his commanding officers holding a poor opinion of him, several logs didn't hint at any specific issue in the realm of his work. Perhaps it was a personal issue then, a spat with the Chief maybe? But among the recountings of various holosuite adventures, there didn't seem to be any source of real acrimony between the two. Just a friendship that Julian wasn't as confident in as he appeared.

_"Miles is a good man. Loyal to a fault, once you gain his loyalty. It only took me over a year. But he finally submitted to the burden of being my friend. The overlap of our interests is rather narrow, but I do enjoy the Chief's company. I'd much rather play another mindless round of darts or get gunned down in the holosuite with Miles than sit alone in Quark's like those first months on board..."_

The chief was something of a brusque man. Tender to his family but otherwise not particularly inclined to warm displays of sentiment. It was simply how the man was and Garak could respect the desire to not put one's feelings on display. Still, it was a shame that Julian, a man obviously in need of demonstrations of affection, kept choosing such taciturn friends. But evidently he understood and respected the nature of others. No mention of Miles in the logs contained a wish for the man to be any different than he was.

So it wasn't a conflict with his friends. Romance, then? The doctor's love life was not what one would call the most successful on the station. (The type to keep such unsavory tallies had long established Morn as having the most partners. A surprising distant second being Quark. Dax had been disqualified.) Julian had been known to mope on more than one occasion over his hard luck with women. Really, Garak should have thought of that first and began his search with the doctor's female acquaintances.

_"God, Jadzia is lovely. And intimidating as hell. I can't believe I actually thought I had a chance with her. When i first met her i was so infatuated by her beauty, so determined to charm her. Speaking to her as if we were equals, when she has **hundreds** of years of life experience. What a child i must seem to her. But I suppose setting aside those fantasies had a silver lining. I can actually get through a senior officers briefing without blushing or stammering like a besotted teenage boy..."_

Julian's rather overeager pursuit of Dax had been nothing short of annoying in their early acquaintance. Garak told himself it was because he found it distasteful to watch such a brilliant man reduced to a simpering lovesick puppy. But it was never quite as obnoxious when directed at the other women who struck the doctor's fancy. The rather ordinary women who didn't have several lifetimes worth of wisdom to draw on. With no enigmatic smiles that hinted that they knew exactly what a man was thinking and feeling. Really, Dax was possibly the most intriguing persona on the entire station but there was a reason Garak hadn't made an effort to form a friendship with her. She was far too insightful for comfort. 

Garak continued strategically sampling various logs, trying different keywords, hoping to narrow down some part of the problem to explain what was bothering the dear doctor. That the man was troubled and unhappy was clear. There is skill in discerning a pattern from available information. There is greater skill in discerning a pattern from a _lack_ of information. And Garak was a very good operative.

Throughout all the logs there was not a single mention of Garak's name. There were references to books the tailor had suggested; Julian's thoughts on Cardassian foods the tailor had recommended he try, with no mention for the impetus behind the tasting. Not a single mention over the years in an otherwise quite detailed diary.... it was too pointed an omission, which to Garak suggested a second set of logs must exist. A man as observant as the doctor, a scientist no less, would most certainly record his observations. And they wouldn't be singled out from the other logs if there wasn't some importance to them. 

It made Garak rather proud to consider that Bashir must have specifically chosen to protect any observations he had recorded about his friend, the tailor/spy. It suggested a caution and foresight he hoped to encourage in his rather naive friend. It also set fire to his curiosity. Why Garak specifically? There was a mystery to be solved here, secrets to be revealed, and Garak was determined to suss them out.

But there were no hidden sub-directories in the doctor's files, no encrypted logs he couldn't crack. There were no holes were deleted data might have been. He was absolutely certain what he was looking for existed, despite a complete lack of evidence for it. 

Garak traded his tea for a more highly caffeinated blend as station's time ticked over to the early morning hours. He had been up all night plundering the station's logs until he had exhausted that resource. He had listened to enough logs to make it clear he wouldn't find his answers there, though he did learn a lot he didn't know about Doctor Julian Bashir. His mind sifted through the data, piecing everything together. There must be other logs, securely partitioned somewhere not connected to the station's database. Of course accessing them would require the perhaps extreme measure of breaking into Julian's quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about hacking and encryptions and stuff, and I'm not about to research it rn sorrynotsorry


	2. Chapter 2

Garak spent the better part of the morning considering the next step of his investigation as he worked in his shop. Perhaps he wouldn't act on it just yet. There was no need to be hasty. Patience, as the humans say, is a virtue. Garak knew well the rewards it could bring. Perhaps there was more to be gleaned from the logs he hadn't had a chance to make it through yet. Another evening listening to the doctor's melodious voice certainly wouldn't be a hardship. So Garak decided to take some time to mull things over before he made his next move.

A decision he immediately reversed when an opportunity presented itself only hours later.

There was some kind of sixth sense Garak was attuned to. He preferred to think he was merely more observant than he gave himself credit for and that's how he always sensed when a certainly lanky form was within range. Something always seemed to draw his attention from his task at the right moment. Made him look up at just in time to catch a glimpse of the doctor as he strode past the windows looking out on the Promenade. Or, on the more delightful occasions, crossed the flow of foot traffic to actually enter the tailor's shop. 

Today was not one of the latter occasions as Bashir was walking alongside Kira, both talking animatedly and gesturing to the padds each held. Garak knew Bashir helped Kira in organizing medical expertise and supplies with Bajor. Coordinating the distribution of vaccines to remote provinces and arranging transport for surgical patients. Once a month they could be seen in the replimat discussing the related issues as they ate. As it was a working meal, it tended to run late, with the two lingering over extra raktajinos as they finished nailing down all the fine points.

And afterwards, having taken a long lunch, Bashir would be playing catch-up in the infirmary. Well occupied far away from his quarters for at least the next couple hours. Such a perfect opportunity with no effort required on Garak's part... it really would be foolish to let the chance slip by. It was quite unnoteworthy for Garak to be closing his shop up at lunchtime. The tailor took the long way around so he wouldn't have to pass the replimat. If he was seen near there, anyone observing him would be expecting him to take a meal. The doctor in particular, if he happened to notice Garak pass by during his meeting, might decide to follow up and find out when Garak had last eaten. Once Bashir had even brought Garak a snack when a custom rush order had forced the tailor to skip lunch. 

Perhaps Garak should have made an appearance after all. But no, his task would only be more difficult if the doctor were to come looking for him.

Older Cardassian codes made short work of the door to the doctor's quarters and Garak slipped inside. He moved immediately to the computer console. As suspected there was a database that had all connections to the main station systems severed. Some additional security beyond a basic access code was to be expected, but Garak was surprised by the challenge that was actually presented to him. It took him several minutes to crack the encryptions. It was not an insurmountable challenge though; before terribly long, he was in and had located the hidden files.

Many hidden files. The sheer number of logs returned in a search for any mention of Garak's name was quite surprising. And intriguing. And flattering.

He downloaded them all to a data rod to take with him. It was tempting fate to linger once he had found what he came for, no matter how curious he was to give the quarters are a very thorough exploration. He had really best be going. Tucking the data rod up his sleeve then settling his cuff smoothly into place, Garak backtracked out of the file partition and returned the console to its normal standby mode. Nothing hinted he had ever been there. Thankfully when he slipped out the door again the corridors were empty all the way to the turbolift.

Garak called for his own level. The shop would have to wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

But when Garak made it to his quarters and eagerly uploaded the files to his computer he did not find himself with the abundance of voice logs he had found on Bashir's terminal. Instead he had somehow ended up with two dozen text files of various literary essays. A quick skim revealed that most were treatises on works he had discussed with Julian, with points the doctor had made during their lunchtime conversations. But with those points now expanded upon. Ideas allowed to progress without being distracted by the rebuttals of a sly, impudent tailor. References were made to works Garak wasn't familiar with, and several very human-sounding concepts gave them a very different tone from the debates the two men had.

This was no mistake. Garak did not make such a simple mix-up as grabbing the wrong files. And with the unique layers of security to get to them in the first place... Programming for sensitive downloaded files to be substituted with more benign documents was very clever coding indeed. Bashir had expected someone to come looking for his files, his files on Garak specifically, had expected them to be found, hacked, and downloaded. Julian had been prepared. Not just to protect the files but to fool whoever hacked in to think their theft was successful... at least, for a moment.

There was intent here, motivations Garak couldn't pin down, and that made him suspicious. What was Julian doing with such high-level computer security on his personal console and why wasn't he using it to secure _all_ of his personal logs? There was much to consider. Garak decided he may as well return to his shop and get some work done while he weighed his thoughts. Since his afternoon was no longer to be occupied by further espionage. 

Very shortly after he had reopened the doors to the Promenade and began piecing together the pattern for a new jacket, Bashir himself appeared.

Given the sophistication of the encryption protocol, it was quite likely the doctor had been notified immediately that his secure system had been breached. The most logical suspect would of course be one former operative of the Obsidian Order.There couldn't be more than two or three other people on the station with the ability to beat those encryptions. Oh yes, the doctor surely knew exactly what had happened and exactly who was responsible for it. Regardless, Garak stood ready to play the wrongly-accused victim with all the melodramatic flair that was expected of him.

 _Surely_ the doctor couldn't think a simple, _innocent_ tailor would _possibly_ impugn the privacy of his _dear_ friend...

But it did not appear that Bashir had come to confront him for the intrusion, or even to tease him for getting caught at it.

"Hullo, Garak," Julian greeted him, pleasant but neutral enough, as he entered the shop. "How's business today?"

"Quite well, Doctor. As a matter of fact, I just sold matching outfits to a set of triplet Orellians," Garak answered with a false, beaming salesman's smile.

Julian's smile in return was politely supportive, but his eyes were twinkling. They both knew damn well there were no Orellians on board the station at present. At least 7 feet tall when on the petite side, the species was impossible to miss. And with the proximity of the infirmary to the shop on the main Promenade, Bashir would have to be blind to have missed the fact that Garak's shop was closed for 'lunch' until all of 15 minutes ago. No customer was never allowed to rush through a purchase in the tailor's shop. Garak could have easily enticed a trio of intriguing aliens to linger for 2 hours over the purchase of a single outfit for each and some very engaging station gossip.

It was, frankly, a pretty pathetic excuse for a lie.

Rather than be embarrassed by it, Garak was indulgently content with the matter. In the Order, your life was staked on your lies. They had to be foolproof, or at least backed up by alternative explanations and outright escape plans. That Garak could relax and tell so many lazy, transparent falsehoods, putting little weight on which lies (or the occasionally truths he peppered in for variety) people gave credence to... it was a sign that he had grown comfortable.

He refused to say 'soft' or 'sentimental'. He might think it, but he wouldn't say it. Let no one suggest Elim Garak might be slipping. But so many years in exile had worn him down enough to wonder if it would really be so bad to have connections with people that extended beyond the barriers he had built to protect himself.

"That will be custom work, then?" Julian's smile was definitely mischievous now as he played along with Garak's little game. "Orellian's being so tall, with so many limbs. They can't have found much to buy off the rack."

Garak managed a nod. "Indeed."

"I imagine that will keep you busy for a bit," Julian continued. "You'll be buried in shirts with six arm holes."

Garak smiled that crocodile smile of his. "The Orellian torso has only 4 limbs. So it would be shirts with four arm holes."

He may not actually have a commission for any Orellians, but he did have a more than rudimentary knowledge of the species' anatomy. So engaged was he by the doctor's little attempt to trip him up, the banter made him forget just why the man was there. It seemed the Julian had forgotten as well. After a moment his amused grin fell to a tense, uncertain frown.

"Garak, there's something I need to talk to you about," he stated abruptly. Ah, so it was to be a confrontation after all? "Could you... could you maybe drop by my quarters later after my shift?"

But not an immediate confrontation apparently.

Garak raised an eyebrow at that invitation. They simply didn't visit each other's quarters outside of extenuating circumstances (and invasions of privacy). Given that Garak had just broken into a heavily encrypted private security system, he was naturally highly suspicious of the owner of said system suddenly wanting to be alone with him. Away from possible witnesses, as it were. But this was Julian Bashir. Garak knew him. And insofar as a wary old spy was able to trust anybody... he trusted this man. He was no doubt in for an unpleasant confrontation but it wouldn't be a violent or dangerous one. 

"Of course, my dear doctor," Garak agreed as if it was the most common and natural thing for the two of them to agree to spend an evening secluded together. "What time would be convenient for you?"

Bashir was clearly relieved by the acceptance without question, but grimaced a slight apology as he answered. "I've got some sample trials in process; the experiment wont be completed for hours yet. I should be home by 2230. I'm sorry, I know its late but I really need to speak with you. Somewhere we wont be overheard by people shopping for underwear."

Julian tipped his head toward a customer who had entered the shop during their conversation, who was now browsing around in patient wait of the shop owner's attention.

Alone. In Bashir's quarters. Late into the night. Garak didn't understand or know exactly how to react to this new twist. So the safest reaction was none.

"I can make myself available. I will see you then, doctor," he said, simple and neutral.

Julian eyed him for a moment, assessing, before he nodded his thanks and slipped out, leaving Garak to his customer.


	3. Chapter 3

Garak wasn't sure precisely what to expect when he arrived at the doctor's quarters. Perhaps a dressing down for invasion of privacy, accusations of betrayal of friendship. Whatever the doctor had to say to him, it wasn't likely to be about Cardassian literature. But really, Garak in his wildest imaginings could not have predicted the topic of the conversation.

Julian greeted him at the door immediately and stepped aside for Garak to enter. The doctor hadn't been home long, just the few minutes it took to undo the snug collar of his uniform and run his hands through his hair, leaving it lightly disheveled. With the shadow of hair growing in on his jaw, it gave him a rakish air, Garak thought as he took a seat on the sofa at Julian's invitation. Accepting the doctor's offer for tea, he sat sipping the hot brew, watching over the rim of his cup as Julian paced for a few moments.

Then he drew to a stop, heaved a deep breath and turned to look Garak straight in the eye.

"It all began when I was six years old..."

And thus, with little fanfare, Julian Bashir sat down and spoke his most closely guarded secret aloud. He told Garak about his parents spiriting him away to Adigeon Prime when he was a child. How the surgeons had pulled slow, simple Jules Bashir apart, rebuilding him and upgrading him into the new and improved Julian Bashir - enhanced intellect, faster reflexes, more precise hand-eye coordination,better hearing, better vision, sharper olfactory sense, etc etc, ad nauseam. The list was long and Garak's eyes grew wider as it went on but Julian didn't skip anything, determined to reveal all. No sense in half-measures here.

With the same calm, dispassionate (almost clinical) demeanor he told Garak about being removed from everyone who knew baby Jules for a decade and a half. No contact with family or friends. Not until it was "safe", and the passage of time could explain away the changes in him. How his parents had coached him in doing less than his very best so as not to arouse suspicions. Intentionally taking second place in academic competitions and tennis tournaments. How he had to lie to be accepted to Starfleet Academy, lie to get accepted into medical school, lie to avoid being taken into custody and quite possibly imprisoned.

Garak sat through it all, rigid, his body still while his brain frantically raced to process the information. It was almost inconceivable the ingenuous Julian Bashir could have kept such a monumental secret, so well and for so long. It was a distraction the way Garak's brain kept replaying moments from the past, looking for clues he hadn't noticed at the time. But at the mention of potentially ruinous consequences, Garak's need to know broke through his resolve to let the man finish speaking before he asked questions.

"This is a dangerous secret, doctor. Why are you sharing it with me?"

"Because you're getting too close." The look Julian's eyes as they met Garak's was unfathomable, but there wasn't time to peel back all the potential layers in their depths right now. "To the truth. Nothing can stop you when a mystery intrigues you. And you're too bloody brilliant not to figure it out eventually."

Said as simple fact, not flattery. And all the more sincere a compliment for it.

"I cant live waiting for the hammer to fall anymore. I have kept this hidden for most of my life. Spent untold hours worrying about the consequences of being discovered. Believe me when I tell you it is _so much harder_ living with the secret while sitting there having lunch with the one man capable of picking apart the seams holding together the lie that is Julian Bashir."

"I see."

Garak didn't miss the shame and cynicism in that last assertion. Clearly Julian was deeply conflicted about his enhanced state. He regarded himself as a liar and a fraud. Perhaps he was; who knows how much of himself Julian had concealed? And Garak had congratulated himself on knowing the doctor so well. Now he wasn't sure what to do with the man who sat across from him. 

"As I am such a threat to you, I'm surprised you maintained our weekly routine," Garak said evenly, determined to give away nothing of his inner doubts and confusion. 

A wry twist of Julian's lips. Not quite a smile, but an approximation of one more fitting to the somber atmosphere.

"Not the wisest thing to do, I suppose," he acknowledged, "No matter how much I enjoy your company. A certain spy I know would call me five kinds of fool for it."

The doctor certainly would not have continued their lunches if he didn't enjoy them. But it was more than that. Spending time with Garak was without a doubt the riskiest thing Julian had ever done in terms of keeping his enhanced status a secret. Garak's entire schtick was secrets, finding them and using them to manipulate situations and people for his own unclear purposes. And now he was telling the spy, straight out, no taking anything back.

Garak was too smart to miss the significance of any of it. His mind picked up the more personal implications of what Julian had said, the details he'd left unspoken. The bewilderment of a small boy who didn't understand why pleasing his father required leaving home and being poked by so many doctors. The crashing loss of self-identity to an older boy when he learned that _everything_ he knew about himself was an invention of medicine, technology, and his father's hubris. The isolation of a man who longed for connection, but was forced to keep those around him at arm's length to protect his secrets.

And didn't Garak know a bit about that sort of lonely existence?

His heart clenched for a quick moment, overcome with emotions he was processing too quickly to suppress with his usual practiced compartmentalization. 

"Then this spy friend of yours is too hard on you. You are at most only four kinds of fool," Garak asserted with a gentle tease, too good at his art for his voice to betray anything else. 

The smile this time was more genuine, as was the low chuckle that accompanied it. Genuine, but very fleeting. Julian reached out and laid his hand atop Garak's where it sat primly on the other man's knee. A gentle squeeze and the touch was gone.

"Thank you," he said.

For a light moment, a joke to laugh at in the midst of misery.

Long minutes of quiet stretched between them until Julian broke the silence with a tired sigh, rubbing at bleary eyes and the dark bags beneath them.

"You need rest, doctor, you've worked late," Garak said. "And you've certainly given me a lot to think about. Perhaps we should resume this conversation tomorrow?"

"No."

Bashir rarely spoke with such resolute finality. It was almost chilling coming from such a warm, gregarious man.

"No?" Garak queried in return.

"No." Julian was grim but firm. "I'm sorry Garak but I need to know what you are doing to do with the information so I can prepare _now_. That was half the point of telling you, so I wouldn't have to wait and worry about whats going to happen anymore. If you're going to tell Starfleet, I need to get my affairs in order before I'm arrested. If you're going to tell the Obsidian Order, I need to get off this station and disappear _yesterday_."

It was wise of Bashir to read between the lines of his few limited experiences with the Obsidian Order and deduce how valuable a talented augment would be for them. Even if it was only as a lab rat, since Julian was unlikely to work for or with the Order even under duress. Thinking three steps ahead was a talent Garak had tried to nurture in the young man.

There was hope for him yet.

That Julian fully expected Garak to report him to someone, despite their friendship, despite Garak knowing exactly how painful a life in exile could be, didn't bear thinking about at the moment.

"If I was indeed working for the Order, that wouldn't give me much incentive to tell you my plans," Garak pointed out, trying not to be petulant in the hurt feelings he refused to acknowledge having.

"Then its lucky for me you are just a plain and simple tailor," Julian said dryly.

"Quite." Garak considered his options carefully. It never hurt to play for time. "Very well. I won't try to delay an answer until morning, but I trust you will give me a few moments to gather my thoughts before I respond?"

Bashir nodded wearily. It was late, and the whole conversation had been emotionally taxing to the extreme. He was exhausted and he just wanted to go to bed He was almost tempted to agree to wait, but how would be able to sleep with this hanging over him?

Julian carefully shied away from wondering what the stigma against genetic augmentation might be like in Cardassian society. What reaction Garak might have when the shock had worn off and the implications had their time to sink in. Would he want to be friends with Frankenstein's monster? The thought of his human friends and how their prejudices might change how they felt about him was nauseating enough to imagine. Maybe waiting until morning to find out what the other man thought of him was a reprieve Julian should have taken.

No, he just couldn't lay awake for hours wondering if Garak could no longer stand to be in the same room with him. He needed an answer.

But he also needed to be reasonable. It wasn't an unreasonable request on Garak's part; it was a lot of surprising information to dump on his friend and expect him to process it all at once.

"Of course," Julian acquiesced and heaved himself to his feet, feeling a hundred years older. "I'll have a quick sonic shower and leave you to your thoughts. Make yourself at home if you want more tea or anything. " He waved a hand towards the replicator as he disappeared into the bedroom. 

Garak leaned forward to set his empty cup down, pleased to note his hands didn't shake to betray the depths of his discomposure. Even with no one here to see it, it was steadying to know he could rely on his control when his mind was in turmoil. 

To have such a secret right under his nose and not detect even the faintest trace of it. That it should be hidden by the man who he was the closest to of anyone on the station. A man who he himself had called green, naive, incapable of artifice. To his face, no less! If the revelation had been less shocking, Garak would be squirming in embarrassment to remember the melodramatic lies he had performed for a man who understood deceit far, far more intimately than Garak had ever suspected. 

He stood and crossed to the viewport, looking out at the stars but not really seeing them. He didn't try to identify any of the systems he could see, didn't even check to see if the tiny speck of Cardassia's sun was visible. Instead his mind was turned to assessing the situation. Methodically he categorized everything he knew, everything he could remember from the first day he had seen Bashir in the replimat. Everything was re-analyzed in the light of this new information. Assumptions must be challenged. Patterns would be disrupted, new ones must be calculated. 

Garak would have to completely dismantle everything he thought he knew about Julian Bashir and rebuild his opinion from the ground up. 


	4. Chapter 4

That Bashir should be extraordinary was not at all a shock in itself. Garak had long been surprised to have found a creature who was all at once so profoundly brilliant, so achingly compassionate, and so devastatingly beautiful that it hadn't seemed possible. Of course, just a short time spent with the doctor was enough to acquaint one with his faults, taking the shine off the idea that Julian Bashir was some epitome of perfection.

Or were those flaws part of the artifice? The gaucheness, the tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, was it all part of the act? Was it all just a way to deflect attention? Encourage others to believe he was transparent and uninteresting? He had been most unsuccessful, if that was the case. No one had ever held Garak's interest so long and so thoroughly. With his enhanced intellect, did Julian even need Garak to explain anything to him when it came to their book discussions? Garak had always enjoyed how well Julian matched him in debate; he was a worthy challenger but Garak still got to enjoy the thrill of winning on most occasions. But perhaps the younger man had been holding back all along, able to shut down the tailor's argument whenever he chose but allowing the other man his little moments of superiority. Indulging Garak out of pity?

Garak sighed and turned away from the window, disgusted with himself. He had to focus on analyzing the matter at hand, not his own feelings about it, if he was going to come to a speedy answer to give the doctor. He could worry about the implications of his own emotions at a later date. This was a sitution that called for acting first and considering afterwards.

His eyes fell on the shelves lining one bulkhead. They were scattered with books, knick-knacks, a photo or two, and an artificial plant. (It was amazing that a man so talented in healing so many different species couldn't manage to keep a potted plant alive. Mrs. O'Brien had given up trying.)

In pride of place sat a bedraggled looking brown lump. Garak crossed to get a better look.

Soft comfort toys in the shape of animals were universal for children the galaxy over. Garak didn't concern himself much with Earth fauna so he didn't recognize the species. What he could recognize, given his profession, was fabric worn thin with age and friction. And misplaced seams of stitches, some lopsided and uneven, others tidy with surgical precision, littered the stuffed body like battle scars. This was an item long treasured and carefully repaired.

And in this slightly misshapen child's toy came the realization that whatever secrets there may have been, Garak _did_ know Julian Bashir. And he had all along. That the man was smarter than he'd known, faster than he would suspect, stronger than he would guess... it didn't really mean anything. It didn't change the man who had chosen to be a healer on a remote outpost far from everything he knew, the man who chosen to befriend the disreputable exile despite constant lies and evasions. Bashir was, simply put, a good man. And a good friend.

After everything they had been through together, there was simply no question of that. And that made the whole matter much simpler for Garak.

When Julian finished his ablutions and emerged wearing soft well-worn pants and thermal shirt with the sleeves shoved up to his elbow, Garak had returned to staring out the viewport. He didn't turn to acknowledge the doctor, but there were two steaming mugs on the table by the sofa. Julian sat and took one, taking a deep draught of the warm and fragrant tea. It was a blend he wasn't familiar with but it was nice. He'd have to ask Garak about it another time, when they didn't have more important things to talk about.

If he got another chance to have a conversation with the man before everything went to hell, that is. He took another sip and tried not to think about that. He set the tea down and settled back into the cushions to wait. It was hard not to fill the silence with talk but he didn't want to push. He sat for a few moments, just listen to the hum and faint vibration of the station, a barely audible to most auditory systems but for him it was am omnipresent white noise. It was comforting.

Garak turned and looked at him for a long moment before speaking.

"A question. Mainly a matter of curiosity, I can't imagine it will greatly affect any answer I have for you."

"Fair enough," Julian politely hid a yawn as he spoke, "Go ahead."

"The whole way you have gone about this whole reveal is decidedly odd, doctor. You could have told me without all the intrigue. You certainly were not required to allow me to access your personal logs. If anyone can appreciate privacy, its me."

"I don't know," Julian said with a listless shrug. "Maybe I thought it would help you... understand."

Understand the situation or understand Julian? Garak wondered. How much did the one affect the reality of the other? A question to explore another time.

"Leading me on a merry chase to unearth your innermost thoughts, hacking my way through secure Starfleet systems, when you could have simply handed me a data rod? Why the game of cat and mouse?"

Julian tipped his head back against the couch, eyes closed and smile wry.

"You know, I wasn't really sure myself until you asked that just now. You choice of idiom, 'game of cat and mouse' made me realize what i was trying to avoid thinking about. Once the truth comes out, no matter how the cards fall... one way or another its the end of our lunches together. Our literature debates, our cultural discussions, our double agent adventures in the holosuite."

His smile softened for a long second as his mind drifted through fond memories of time spent with Garak. Then his face fell and he rubbed a hand against his eyelids. As eyes dry and gritty with exhaustion as his eyes were, they were started to prickle with moisture.

"Its silly, really... I suppose I wanted one last spy game with you. I'll miss them."

So would Garak. Life on the station without Doctor Julian Bashir looked achingly empty from where Garak was sitting.

Julian sighed deeply but didn't sit up, didn't open his eyes. He sat quietly, giving his friend the promised time to think. Julian found he was too tired to think himself. Almost too tired to worry anymore. Really, it would be much easier to let himself go numb for the immediate future. He could compartmentalize his emotions quite well when he needed to; he didn't need to feel anything in order to act or to utilize his genetically enhanced brain. It might be the buffer he needed to get through the next few days, weeks, months... and when the dust finally settled, maybe then Julian could allow himself an old fashioned cathartic breakdown.

Thinking about the emotional numbness encouraged a physical lassitude to creep through his body, despite his intentions to finish the business at hand before sleeping. He was beginning to drift out of consciousness when Garak's softly voice question penetrated his awareness.

Garak was watching Bashir closely, noticing his body gradually relax. The man was falling asleep, helped along by one of the most soothing sleep teas available in the replicator. A tactical choice. Julian was always decidedly less guarded when he was sleepy. He had shown no hint of being anything less than fully honest, but it made Garak feel like he was the one in control of the confession now.

"Earlier you said half the reason you told me your secret was so you wouldn't have to live in fear of it being discovered anymore." Garak waited until Julian gave a faint hum, acknowledging that he was listening. "What was the other half of the reason?"

Julian was silent for so long Garak thought he had fallen asleep. But eventually came the soft murmur of an answer.

"Part of me wanted to tell you. For a while now. I didn't want to- I wanted you to know me, I suppose." Julian forced heavy eyelids open to regard Garak for a moment. "I'm happy to lie to you in play, to amuse you as part of our games. You wouldn't respect me if I always told the truth. But I didn't want to lie about who I am, not anymore. Not to you."

Julian hadn't meant to single out Garak specifically as the one he most wanted to reveal his innermost self to. His let his eyes drop closed again to avoid the other man's sharp eyes. Garak didn't immediately respond. Julian hadn't expected him to. And he was too damned tired to guess at what the enigmatic Cardassian might be thinking right now. As the silence stretched once more, slumber began to swallow Julian and before long he had lost his hold on the waking world, slouched untidily on the sofa, long limbs sprawled gracelessly.

Garak sat in intent thought, unmoving. Part of his mind was watching the young man, waiting for the physical tells to indicate the doctor was deeply asleep. While the other part turned over everything he had learned. Pinned together the stray pieces and followed the threads that didn't seem to connect until the pattern came together. Running through his choices, following them to their possible consequences, weighing risks versus reward.

He needs more information. Resolved, he stands. Truly, he would torture a man for a glass of decent kanar right now, but he didn't have time for that kind of thing. Instead he helped himself to a seat at Bashir's computer terminal. After breaking into the doctor's files to search his logs, Julian may as well not bother having a security code on his console at all. And it took mere moments for Garak to gain remote access to the resources on his own secret and highly specialized computer. His fingers flew as he set to work.


	5. Chapter 5

When Julian awoke it was morning. He was stretched out rather more comfortably on the sofa. Garak had kindly provided him with a blanket and stuck a throw pillow under his head. Most unexpected was the presence of Kukalaka snuggled beneath his forearm. The bear was always safely tucked away in the bedroom when Julian invited others to his quarters. He was called boyish and immature quite enough as it was, thank you. But in the face of what he had planned, it hadn't even occurred to him to do so before Garak arrived.

Julian smiled sleepily, giving the bear's ear a fond tweak, before the fog in his brain lifted and he actually recalled the details of the previous night. What he had done. Given the most objectively dangerous man on the station all the ammunition he would need to destroy everything Julian Bashir had built for himself. Fully alert suddenly as the heavy weight of reality settled on his chest, Julian sat up abruptly. And froze.

Garak sat in the nearby armchair, legs crossed and hands folded easily in his lap. How long had he been sitting there, silently waiting for Julian to wake? Had he been watching him sleep all night? The doctor eyed the tailor-spy uneasily. The Cardassian's expression was unreadable. 

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Garak said simply.

The breath left Julian's lungs in surprise. In relief.

"What's more, neither is anyone else," Garak asserted.

Julian blinked in confusion.

Garak smiled then, that mysterious smile Julian had found so alluring. It hinted at power. Power borne of knowledge and cunning and a unique mind. He'd seen that power come to fruition enough times to know Garak could deliver on his promises. And his threats.

"You'll forgive me for not waking you. I know you were hoping to resolve everything last night. But I did take advantage of the time to discreetly confirm a few of my own suspicions, and answer the questions that didn't get addressed before you fell asleep."

A pointed glance towards the computer console was enough for Julian to deduce the direction of Garak's efforts without the other man having to elaborate. If there was any information out there that could be found, Garak was the one to find it. He would know how secure the secret was.

"Your father managed to find himself a tailor nearly as talented as myself. The seams would be hard to spot for anyone but a professional. If they had no reason to go looking for the stitches, they would be unlikely to find them. But I didn't see any harm in... reinforcing the seams, arranging a few pleats to hide them entirely." Garak continued smiling, pleased with his little metaphor. "I wouldn't recommend testing the strength, you understand."

Garak held Julian's eyes, knowing he DID understand. If Julian went digging into his own records to check Garak's work, it would only call attention to them. He was smart enough to know it. That was a certain fact now.

"But whatever you may feel about the garment you've been sewn into, my dear... I promise you, it can only be unraveled with your permission now. There are no loose threads to threaten you anymore."

"I-.. you can do that? Never mind, if anyone could it would be you. But I hadn't-, I mean.." Julian trailed off, shaking his head.

He had tried to prepare himself for the most likely consequences of his choice to tell Garak. From best case scenario to worst. He'd tried not to entertain too many hopes that Garak would keep his secret, however much he wanted to believe their friendship would mean that much to the other man. Assuming their friendship didn't change in the face of the truth. He's had a tiny niggling fear of the information being used to blackmail and manipulate him. Bashir had witnessed the effects the former spy's machinations could have on people. He didn't want to believe it was possible, didn't really think Garak would ever choose to do that to him. But he knew he had to entertain the possibility. The man himself would caution Julian against being trusting of, well, anything. 

But this... this hadn't even occurred to him. That Garak would decide to actively involve himself in keeping Julian's cover intact was wholly unexpected. He spent so much time _trying_ not to think about his enhancements and their possible repercussions that he hadn't even considered that his friend might know ways to help protect sensitive information.

_Thank you_ , he meant to say.

"Why?" came out instead.

"I can be a rather selfish man, doctor. I've come to enjoy our lunches and I don't care to break the routine or lose my dearest companion. Your departure from station would be most inconvenient to me. Not to mention the lost income. Your holosuite adventures do require such creative costumes."

"Is that all?"

"You're not the only one with secrets, doctor."

Julian nodded, his face serious for a long moment as he studied Garak.

"Now," Garak said. "I do think it would be wise if we agreed not to speak of this again. I'm quite confident in the measures I have taken but they wont be effective against eavesdroppers. Is there anything further we need to discuss?"

Julian hesitated before asking,

"What do you think... of everything? Of me, now that you know?"

Every instinct inside Garak offered up a flippant remark, a coy non-answer, a deflection, a distraction.

For once in his life, he went for stark honesty instead.

"If you had asked me what I thought of you yesterday I would have said you are perhaps the best man I have ever known. The kindest and most dedicated soul. Nothing I have learned here has given me reason to alter that opinion. Genetic manipulation is not treated with the same abhorrence on Cardassia as it is on Earth, if that's what concerns you."

Julian breathed a sigh in relief. At least he knew the other man didn't see him as a monster now. He would have been content with that. He didn't know what to say to the rest... direct compliments weren't usually Garak's style. 

"Yet, in another way, I find myself faced with a relative stranger. I don't even know what it is I don't know about you. For a man like me, accustomed to acquiring information, having all the facts at my fingertips, you can image how this leaves me feeling at a disadvantage."

Julian felt like he was watching his friendship with the man retreating. He'd spent long years slowly learning his way through the labyrinth of the walls Garak built around himself. The man didn't trust. Didn't let others close. Until Julian. Who had lied to him more convincingly than anyone had in years. Garak didn't like weakness and if Julian made him feel vulnerable, there was less incentive for Garak to keep his company.

Julian knew, had always known, friendships would be lost when it all came out. The inevitable pain of being back to square one with the other man made him bitter.

"I'd say having the ability to ruin me rather puts the advantage in your hands," he said, his voice flat. 

"Doctor, I don't want to ruin you."

"What it is it you _do_ want, Garak?" His tone was peevish and he instantly regretted it. 

What were his motives here, why help a 'relative stranger' then? Julian couldn't figure it out. And he dearly wanted to know. Even if Garak didn't want to be friends with him, there was little the doctor wouldn't do for him now. In gratitude for his discretion and his help. Julian knew better than to offer voluble words of thanks or ask how he could repay the other man. If Garak would just for once say what he wanted, Julian would he happy to give it to him. Within reason. 

For a heartbeat, for half a moment, Julian thought maybe Garak was really going to answer him honestly. He thought he saw the desire to speak part the other man's lips, saw a flash of naked emotion in the other man's eyes. But with that enviable and damnable self control, Garak collected himself and just smiled politely.

"For the moment I want to stop by my quarters to change and have a cup of tea before I must open my shop. I imagine you need to prepare for your shift in the infirmary."

Julian nodded miserably. "Of course. I... again, thank you."

As expected the tailor ignored that, not about to acknowledge the issue he had summarily decided was now closed and off limits for future conversation. Garak turned to leave but stopped at the door.

"I will see you at lunch for our usual appointment," he said. "Perhaps we can discuss the text translation of Falor's Journey? I think we can dispense with the pretense that you need more than a week to finish it. I'm guessing it took you no more than an hour or two."

It took some effort for the doctor to suppress his great joy. Garak wanted to continue their lunches. That he wasn't immediately retreated was a good sign. Julian tried to temper his hopes. It was still very early days, there was no telling how things might go now. But maybe they _could_ get along just like they always had, banter and argue and flirt across the table at each other... 

"It took me 4, actually. I _am_ a busy man, after all," Julian smiled hesitantly but adopted the cocksure, somewhat self-important tone that he knew tended to amuse Garak because it was transparent as plasglass to the perceptive older man. 

Garak's smile had a hint of warmth that further eased Julian's heart. It was subtle. But it was there. And he knew it meant that Garak still cared. 

The Cardassian inclined his head in a nod of farewell and departed, leaving Julian to scramble to prepare for his shift with enough time to grab breakfast on his way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want y'all to know i rewrote the ending 3 times so that would not end on a super angsy cliffhanger moment because i swear, i am *trying* to write them around to the point where they smooch but their emotional baggage keeps getting in the way. next chapter will possi-probably be the finale tho!


	6. Chapter 6

To Julian's great relief, lunch went rather well. They sat at their usual table at the usual time, discussing Vulcan literature and having their usual arguments. Garak's manner was as it had always been, almost inscrutably so. Julian could almost pretend he'd never said anything, that the man didn't know him better than anyone else in the entire galaxy.

Only...now that Julian wasn't on his guard, it felt different. Some of it was just lingering anxiety and worry that Garak might change his mind. Not about keeping Julian's secret, but about keeping their friendship. But there was something more... Odd that now the friendship felt threatened it also felt like it was somehow not enough.

Now that he didn't need to hold himself back and watch his words and worry through every conversation, he found he enjoyed Garak's company even more than he previously had. How congenial that enigmatic smile could be when he knew it didn't cloak any danger to himself. He could be honest about his opinions without worrying about exposing too much. And the tailor-spy was always so delighted by Julian's intelligence and witty repartee, though he would often enough scoff at Bashir's naïve Federation way of thinking. It warmed the doctor to think his friend would get even more pleasure out of their conversations now that Julian no longer had the need to play dumb.

An idea formed slowly throughout the meal, solidifying as they parted ways after their meal and Julian spent the afternoon trying to talk himself out of it. It was foolish. There had been quite enough revelations in the past few days. It had gone off better than he ever dreams but the foundations of everything, not just their friendship, had been shaken nonetheless. They still stood strong. For the moment. It would be profoundly stupid to upset that stability again, and so soon. It would be pressing his luck and Julian had never exactly had the best of luck. There was a reason he didn't do much gambling in Quark's; he wasn't always good at taking his winnings and walking away when he should.

No. He already had too much of a reputation for rushing in to things, being too enthusiastic, going too far, or asking too much of people. He had better use those genetically augmented brains, do the smart thing for once, and keep his mouth shut. Hadn't he spilled enough secrets?

Of course he had. Time to keep himself to himself. There then, the matter was settled and decided.

Or it was, until he happened to glance out of the infirmary and spot Garak ambling down the Promenade, having just closed his shop for the day. The glimpse of the Cardassian, even from a distance, was enough to crumble Julian's resolve.

Snatching up the data rod he'd been staring at all afternoon between tasks, he trotted out of sickbay in time to intercept Garak.

With a pleasant greeting Julian proffered to rod to him.

"Our next reading selection, doctor?" Garak inquired with a smile as he took it.

"Something like that," Julian said, nervous now and already debating snatching it back.

"More Vulcan poetry? Or have we moved back to human works? Hopefully not more insipid Shakespeare."

"Its human, yes," Julian prevaricated uneasily, "nonfiction, of sort. You'll see."

Garak wondered at the doctor's unusual reticence but he had no chance to inquire further as the human excused himself and headed back to the infirmary for the last hour of his shift. Uncharacteristically Bashir didn't favor Garak with his usual smile or the fond sort of farewells he tended to make, nor did he glance back once as he left. Garak raised a brow-ridge at that.

They had done so well at lunch in maintaining their usual easy interactions. It had reaffirmed Garak's choice in helping the doctor and staying silent about his augmentation. Losing that pleasant time spent together would have been most upsetting. Julian had seemed to enjoy himself much as he always had, seemed pleased they were both on the same page for once. But his manner in this short meeting displayed definite uneasiness. Well. Whatever Garak may have recently learned about Doctor Julian Bashir, it appeared there would continue to be further mysteries to intrigue him.

Now that Garak was aware of the doctor's incredible reading speed, he would need to exert more effort to finish each book in time for their next lunch. With that in mind he turned his attention to the data rod as soon as he was settled into his quarters. Once again he did find himself with the files he was expecting. It was not the text of an Earth book. Rather, it was a large number of voice logs with file designations that looked quite recently familiar.

The secret personal logs of Julian Bashir. The ones the doctor had so closed guarded, the ones that had taken Garak considerable effort to access.

Garak stared at the file list on his console display for endless minutes, unable to comprehend. This was precisely what he'd tried to gain. But why had Bashir given it to Garak now, when it was unnecessary? After he'd already exposed himself? The Cardassian could not account for it.

A hesitant hand selected a log at random, calling up the audio and summoning the voice he knew so well.

 _"Miles had another go at me today."_ The doctor's voice was wry with irritation as he mimicked the chief's brogue. _"'Julian, your little lunch dates with your spy boyfriend are going to get you assassinated'. I know he thinks he is being funny, trying to lighten the mood with a joke while he warns me off. But he doesn't realize he is just twisting the knife. I know there can never be anything more between me and Garak. Nothing that could last, anyway. What would happen if I got reassigned? A new posting on a starship twice as bright as this station, full of even more smug Starfleet optimists? He'd hate every minute of it. And when he does finally get the chance to return home... they certainly aren't going to be best pleased to accept him back on Cardassia with a human husband in tow..."_

Garak's hand came down abruptly on the console with a loud smack that ended the playback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, i PROMISE next chapter things actually finally come to a head


	7. Chapter 7

Julian was poking his way through the menu options on his replicator in a desultory fashion. Trying to distract himself from yet another stupid decision. He'd paced for nearly an hour after he first made it back to quarters until he realized he was hungry. But nothing sounded good, and really he wasn't altogether sure the feeling in his stomach actually was hunger and not a massive ball of anxiety instead.

A chime at the door pulled him from his unsuccessful search for a meal. He crossed to open it and came face to face with the very man he had been trying not to obsess about (and making a very poor job of it). Julian could only manage a nod of greeting as he stepped back in surprise, allowing the tailor to enter.

Garak held out the data rod to him once the door had swished shut again.

Julian's brow furrowed. "You can't have listened to them all by now."

"My dear doctor, I didn't listen to any of them," Garak said with an impassive smile.

"Oh?"

"I do appreciate the gesture, my friend, but I do not require you to lay all your secrets at my feet. Its rather less than fun than finding them out for myself, you understand. And if anyone appreciates a bit of mystery, its me." 

Julian took the data rod, studying Garak for a long moment. He should be relieved, he knew he should. And it sounded perfectly reasonable. Understandable even, the former spy being the type of man he was. But Julian had the sneaking suspicion Garak was lying to him.

"All right then." He tapped the data rod idly against the palm of his hand for a moment as he considered his next move. "How about I set you up with something else? Something we can talk about over lunch next week."

He moved to his console and inserted the data rod. When he went to delete the logs from it, he double checked the file data. The last recorded access time for the logs was when Julian loaded them onto the rod.

All files except for one.

Garak was smart enough to know what they were without playing any of them, as he claimed he had not. Yet at least one log _had_ been opened. But for how long? Wouldn't a sample only have stoked Garak's avid curiosity into listening to more of them? The man was usually voracious when it came to sensitive, prileged information. Unless he'd hadn't liked what he heard...

"Computer," Julian suddenly said aloud, "repeat last playback."

The computer dutifully opened that one log and the sound of Bashir's voice played. As the words " _with a human husband in tow._ " died away, Julian began to laugh. His amusement less bitter than he expected as he laughed at himself. At the universe, its Fates and the tricks they played on mere mortals. Especially one named Julian Bashir.

Garak stared at him as he laughed, wondering if he had missed a punchline somewhere, but the doctor couldn't quite meet his gaze.

"Of course. Of all the logs... You open a single file, and _of course_ it couldn't have been one where I was complaining about Cardassian repetitive epics, or your insults against my wardrobe."

Julian shook his head as his perverse humor faded and turned his attention back to the console, avoiding Garak's eyes. He deleted all the logs from the data rod, fingers stabbing viciously at the panel as he sent them into nothingness. Selecting the proper literary file, he replaced the secrets of Julian Bashir with ancient Earth literature and ejected the rod. He offered it to Garak without looking at him.

"Here. Some Shelley. I honestly don't have a guess how you'll feel about Frankenstein. If you decide you hate it, I certainly wont be offended-"

"Doctor-" Garak tried to interrupt but Julian stood, holding up a hand to silence him and finally managed to look him in the face.

Only for a moment before he shied away again.

"Garak... I understand."

And what was the doctor so sure he understood? Garak's own mind was in such a turmoil he himself didn't know what to think. He'd been off-balance since Julian had begun his story, was it just the other night? It felt like days ago now. The surprising new information had been an unrelenting assault, and it took all of Garak's many skills to keep pace the changes with any amount of aplomb. But he was reaching his limits for playing it cool in the face of his confusion.

Why had the doctor done this? Why share these logs? Why even record them in the first place? Was it some sort of strange joke? Was it even...

"It's... true then?" He asked.

Julian should have known he wouldn't get away with a little minor embarrassment and change of subject here. It was Garak after all. An interrogation was to be expected.

"I didn't fake a bunch of personal logs, if that's what you're asking." Julian responded.

Garak was silent for a long moment. Then,

"How long?"

There was really no point in not being honest. It was all in the log Julian had so blithely handed over. Garak would have known it all by now if the truth of Julian's feelings for him hadn't been enough to scare him out of investigating the rest. 

"Since the wire," he answered simply.

Garak was taken aback by that.

"When I insulted and outright assaulted you? _That's_ when you...?" he trailed off in his surprise, not even sure what words to put to it.

"Fell for you?" Julian supplied with a self-deprecating smile. "No, I don't believe so. That's just when i realized it. I'm a doctor, Garak, its not the first time I've taken abuse from a patient in pain. Even Miles swears at me when I reset his shoulder. At first I couldn't understand why it seemed to hurt so much more coming from you. But when it became clear you were dying, I-I just refused to accept that outcome. I couldn't let it happen, because I cared about you too much."

Julian sucked in a breath and waited, tense. Admitting it out loud to Garak was a very different experience than speaking the words to his private logs. Garak only continued to stare at him, mouth set in a small 'o' of astonishment. Julian could practically hear the gears turning rapidly inside that gray head. Whatever the tailor was thinking though, it wasn't anything that could be read in the features of his ridged face.

Julian sighed and turned away.

"It's okay, Garak" he said softly, accepting Garak's silence as sufficient response. "We can add it to the list of things we agree not to talk about, along with Enabran Tain and my genetic status."

Giving them both the option to ignore it and proceed as they always had. 

The same way they ignored the former spy's history with the Order. The torture, the assassinations, the ugly truths of a past career in espionage.

Julian was only aware of a fraction of the worst of it, Garak knew. But the small facts the human had gleaned were enough. To a man like Bashir, someone who valued life and justice and a humane order to things, Starfleet in his ideals and beliefs, they should be repellent. But the doctor had never been repelled. He had stood by Garak and never let their friendship waver, never let the Cardassian's past affect how he was treated in the present. Despite all he knew, everything he had learned and witnessed in Garak's company.

The tailor could not pretend he was still a total mystery to Julian. His friend knew him better than anyone had since perhaps Palandine.

Julian _knew_ , but he accepted Garak for what he was.

More than accepted him.

Forgave him.

Even _loved_ him?

It still seemed impossible. Unfathomable. Perhaps Garak was starting to hallucinate from the lack of sleep?

"Doctor, I..." Again he trailed off, entirely unsure what he intended to say.

Julian, back still turned to him, flinched almost infinitesimally. Hunched his shoulders slightly, head bowed and stance tensed, almost as if he expected to weather a blow. Like he expected Garak to _hurt_ him, with words if nothing else, and was preparing himself for the inevitable pain of rejection. A feeling all too familiar in Bashir's life.

Garak's heart broke a little at the sight of his dear doctor so cowed.

The human usually had such a quiet strength about him. It made him a good doctor, firm but reassuring to his patients. And it made him a good friend, steadfastly supportive without enabling bad behavior.

As much as Garak had a rather complicated relationship with the truth, he could not deny the strength it took for a person to be honest and open about their feelings. It took fortitude to acknowledge the truth about oneself, and even more to admit it to others. Especially in a situation where they might be rejected for it, where those feelings might even be used against them.

That Bashir had the strength to make such momentous confessions, one after another, was a marvel. To (mostly) look him in the eye as he did so. It only made Garak respect him more.

Admire him more.

Love him more.

Because of course he loved the dear doctor.

It had taken considerable mental gymnastics to avoid using that word, shying away from it even in the privacy of his own thoughts. But of course Garak had always cared for the human. Sought his company and precisely no one else's. Reveled in every minute spent together and missed Julian when his duties took him off the station. Garak had been proud of their friendship.

And very carefully avoided considering the idea that there could be anything more.

Garak could no longer remember why he'd always insisted that could never be.

A gray hand settled on Bashir's shoulder and the younger man tried not to cringe. The slight weight only rested there for a long moment of silence.

"Julian."

The use of his given name finally prompted him to turn to the other man.

Garak was looking at him with such a tender unabashed warmth, it really should have felt more out of place on a man who used such studied expressions. But in a way, it was like Julian had been waiting, almost expecting, to see that look since the very day they met

"Tell me," Garak asked, with an impossibly gentle smile, "Is this talent for rendering me speechless a new skill, or something you've kept hidden over the years?"

"I..." Julian goggled helplessly, unsure how to answer. How to speak. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure he even knew how to breathe anymore.

Garak's smile grew for minute. But then he frowned.

"Julian," He paused as if groping for what to say. "I have grown too used to... obfuscation to easily set it aside. I-I don't know that I have the words..."

It was rare to face an Elim Garak whose eloquence had abandoned him. He had a rare talent for words, always planning his little speeches very carefully. And clearly he found it annoying to be at a loss because he gave a faint huff of frustration.

Then Garak's hand slid from Julian's shoulder, up to the side of his neck. Clever Cardassian fingertips came to rest against Bashir's dark hair as the doctor remembered how to respirate enough to suck in a soft gasp.

Julian stared into blue eyes as Garak pulled him forward, until a cool gray mouth settled against his and Bashir let his eyelids flutter shut.

He took a step forward, bringing himself closer. Pressed into the kiss with intentional reciprocation, but hesitating to go further, to part his lips, to take the other man into his arms.

Until the hand at his neck moved to cradle the back of his head, holding him with gentle firmness as the kiss intensified.

With a sigh that sounded like sweet relief, Julian finally wrapped himself around Garak the way he'd always wanted to. Long arms snaked around so his hands could run up and down the ridges of a spine he could feel even through several layers of thick fabric.

Julian's tongue traced Garak's mouth eagerly. He wasn't sure if Cardassians kissed in this fashion. He just knew he really wanted to know what the other man tasted like. When Garak's lips parted and their tongues twined, there was a low moan. Neither man was sure which of them it had come from.

Endless moments later when they surfaced for air, Julian pulled back a little. His hands, which had been drifting dangerously low on Garak's back, came up to settle on his shoulders. The Cardassian arched into the touch with the barest trace of a sensuous hiss. Unconsciously bidden, Julian's thumbs drifted with a firm caress over the scales of those ridges, just above the neckline of Garak's tunic.

A hot fire flashed in the other man's eyes and Julian's mouth went dry.

"Garak-"

Whatever he meant to say in that voice husky with want (he hardly knew what), it was cut off. Garak wound both hands into Julian's hair and tugged the human back to him urgently. Devouring his mouth, kissing him senseless, sparing only the most necessary breaths. Julian began to see stars, was gradually melting against the ridged and solid chest he was leaning against. His fingertips dug into the sensitive shoulder ridges to hold himself upright as his knees weakened.

Which only spurred Garak into redoubling his efforts, leaving Julian even more of a panting wreck when Garak drew back enough to press their foreheads together. The doctor's heart flipped. He didn't know the full cultural significance of it, but he knew enough to know it was a meaningful gesture of affection. One a Cardassian shared only with those they were very close to.

"Perhaps," Garak had to clear his throat to speak, his tongue darting to wet his lips in a way that sent a shiver through Julian. One the Cardassian didn't miss, judging by his smile. "Perhaps in private, 'Elim' would be more appropriate."

Granting the use of his name was a gesture more meaningful than a dozen chufa presses. Julian couldn't decide between smiling, testing the sound of the rarely-heard name, and kissing back.

So he did all at once, grinning happily against the other man's lips as he whispered,

" _Elim_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and they lived happily ever after, having affectionate arguments and judging aliens for their literature! 
> 
> (Garak is not particularly worried about the concerns Julian mentioned in his log. At this point in time he honestly does not expect he'll ever get the chance to return to Cardassia (Julian has never for a moment doubted that it would happen... someday), and there would be nothing significant keeping Garak on the station any longer if Bashir were to leave so he sees no reason for them not to enjoy the romance to its funnest and most fulfilling extent)


End file.
